


The Whole World Stops and Stares

by chronocides



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:25:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronocides/pseuds/chronocides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe and Aubrey in the minutes and months after Pukegate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whole World Stops and Stares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wishfulclicking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulclicking/gifts).



> Alternate title for this was "A Puker's Guide to Lasting Friendships", but I thought, nah, better not. Title is from Bruno Mars. 
> 
> Massive thanks to A for beta-ing. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Can be read as pre-femslash. 
> 
> I hope you like it, wishfulclicking! I had quite a lot of fun writing it.
> 
> ps. Alice is the name given for the Bellas' leader who's seen at the start of the film (at least, according to IMDB), just to clear up any confusion.

There was a moment of stunned, clear silence after Aubrey stopped throwing up. She imagined that it would be like this just before she died, but instead of her whole life flashing before her eyes, it was her whole tenure with the Barden Bellas thus far— signing up as a freshman, her first audition, Sectionals, Regionals, the trip to the Lincoln Center. During that moment of silent, white-hot clarity, she could almost believe that it was all a horrible nightmare, and that she'd suddenly wake up and find herself still on the way to New York, before the start of the ICCAs.

And then the sound came rushing back in, and it wasn't a dream. No dream could be vivid enough to conjure the acrid vomit taste still in her mouth, the smell of it that almost got her puking again. She took one look at the appalled audience, her disgusted and sickened sisters, the Treblemakers in the wings high-fiving each other and holding their noses. It couldn't have been more than a second but the moment felt stretched out. Her trembling fingers dropped her sodden microphone and she ran backstage on shaking legs. She could hear cruel laughter and retching noises as she ran. She didn't stop running until she was in a bathroom cubicle, on her knees, wondering if the sick, humiliated knot in her stomach meant that she was going to throw up some more. 

Clicking heels followed her at a hurried pace. "Aubrey?" 

It was the only person whose presence she could've tolerated at this moment. But it didn't mean she particularly wanted to. The sight of Chloe: every hair in place, scarf still neatly knotted around her neck, no smudged lipstick or warm vomit dripping down her chin-- would be too painful, like salt in a wound or an amplified chorus of off-key harmonies. 

Chloe knocked on the cubicle door. "Aubrey, it's me. Are you okay?" 

_What the fuck do you think?_ Aubrey wanted to ask, viciousness bubbling inside of her like the vomit she'd spewed out onto the unsuspecting audience. _How would you feel if you suddenly regurgitated all the crap you'd eaten in the past two days?_ But she didn't, because Chloe wouldn't have any idea of how it felt. Chloe could hit an E above middle C without flinching or bracing herself. She could’ve been the one holding the pitch pipe next year, if it weren't for Aubrey. She would probably get it now, after that embarrassing, soul-crushing display. Aubrey would be lucky if they'd even let her hold a metronome in practice after this. 

"Aubrey?" Chloe asked again, softer, as if Aubrey were a skittish, rabid animal that she was trying to coax out of its cave. 

Aubrey reached up and unlatched the door. It swung open slightly, and Chloe peered through the gap, before disappearing. 

Aubrey didn't know that it was possible for her heart to sink even lower but it did, watching the flash of Chloe's hair swish around the corner. There was the sound of running water, and suddenly Chloe was back, squatting down so she could hold out a couple of damp paper towels to Aubrey. When Aubrey didn't do anything but stare blankly at her, Chloe reached forward and gently started wiping at the corner of Aubrey's mouth, the curve of her chin. 

"I know that right now feels like the most terrible moment of your life," Chloe said, in that same soft, steely tone, like she expected Aubrey to up and bolt at any moment. "But it isn't. You were made to perform, Aubrey. You were born to sing. I know that it doesn't feel that way right now, and the rest of the school year is probably going to be horrible, but--" Chloe pressed the paper towel against Aubrey's jaw when Aubrey made a contradictory noise. "But, you'll get through this." 

Aubrey's mind was full of self-recriminations, one falling on top of the other like shameful bass beats, but all her protests died in her throat when Chloe continued. "We'll get through this together. Count on it." 

Chloe's eyes were very blue, and her fingers warm where she pressed them against the pulse in Aubrey's wrist. If their lives were a film, the score would be swelling right now, something upbeat and inspirational in a major key, but instead there's a flushing sound in the cubicle next to Aubrey's, and a grunting noise as someone pulls their pants up and unlatches the door. 

"That was almost as gross as you blowing your cookies onstage," said Bumper, sticking his head around the door. "And do you have to have your vile heart-to-hearts in the men's bathroom? Don't you have a hole somewhere that you have to crawl into?" 

"After you," said Aubrey, her voice hoarse and rusty, like she hadn't used it for years. She coughed and spat into the toilet bowl, which ruined the moment, and Bumper laughed meanly.

He didn't wash his hands before he left. It was almost enough to make Aubrey start puking again. 

///

Alice was waiting for them when they got out of the bathroom. Her face was almost incandescent with rage. Or stage makeup. Either way, the look she gave Aubrey could strip paint. 

"I cannot believe," Alice shrieked. "That you would humiliate us like that. In front of a packed audience, at the Lincoln Center!" 

Aubrey bit her lip. "I didn't mean to-"

"It doesn't matter that you didn't mean to!" Alice said. "This is the first time that the Bellas- that any all-female acapella group- made it into the finals, and instead of being known as the group that made history, we'll be known as the group that blew chunks all over the first three rows! Some people had their mouths open! We'd made their jaws drop in awe, and then you filled their mouths with vomit!"

Despite the supportive hand she had braced on Aubrey's arm, Chloe shuddered. Aubrey took a deep breath. 

"I'm sorry," Aubrey said. Alice panted, her face red. Before she could open her mouth to continue her tirade, Aubrey piped up with, "My dad always says, 'what doesn't kill you isn't worth your time.'" 

Chloe and Alice both stared at her, nonplussed. Aubrey smiled, hoping there weren’t vomit chunks stuck in her teeth. She’d gargled about a million times, but it was that kind of day. 

Alice narrowed her eyes. "Whatever. I keep telling you to shut up, and this time, you better take my advice and shut it, because you just ruined everything we worked so hard for. For the first time, I'm glad that I'm graduating. You've turned the Bellas' name into dirt. Good luck resurrecting any kind of chance at even Sectionals next year." With a final, withering glance, she turned on her heel and stalked away. 

///

The trip back to Barden was a haze. The other girls gave Aubrey and Chloe a wide berth-- while some of them were sympathetic, most were heartbroken over the totally gross end to their season, especially the seniors. Those who would've comforted or commiserated with Aubrey were cowed by the glares Alice kept shooting her way. 

Aubrey was ravenous on the plane. She'd been hungry last night too, but the idea of going out and looking for food, and maybe bumping into someone who'd seen her throw up onstage was too much. She'd fallen asleep before Chloe could even suggest room service. 

Because the flight was too short, and it was in the middle of the day, they were only getting little bags of pretzels and peanuts, and cans of soda. It wasn't a full flight though, and the flight attendant was an older lady who reminded Aubrey a little of her Aunt Sue, and who gave Aubrey a couple extra bags of pretzels when she asked. 

"Don't let her near a live audience now," Alice said cattily from across the aisle, after Aubrey had scarfed down her third bag of pretzels. "I don't think anyone wants to see what half-digested airplane food looks like."

Chloe put a calming hand on Aubrey's arm, but she didn't need to. Aubrey could control herself. She gave Alice her widest, brightest smile, and asked the nice flight attendant for another ginger ale. 

"My stomach really isn't feeling too well," Aubrey said. When the flight attendant left, she made a retching sound, and laughed as all the Bellas flinched. 

///

It wasn't until Aubrey was in her dorm room, ensconced in pillows and blankets and with the shades drawn, that she realized she hadn't seen her parents in the audience. Her mother was probably with her plastic surgeon in Lausanne, so that ruled her out, but she'd invited Dad herself, since he'd be in New York for the next two weeks. She sat up and reached for her phone. There was an unopened voice mail-- it had probably come in while she was napping on the plane. 

"Hello, Aubrey." Aubrey smiled at the sound of Dad’s voice, basso-profundo. "I'm sorry I missed your performance. I heard it was... quite memorable."  


Aubrey winced. Dad hadn't been like all the other dads at her school. It wasn't enough for him to simply miss all her recitals and productions and plays. No, Dad was determined to one-up Mother when it came to parenting, so when he couldn't go, he sent an underling to videotape everything for him. He had a whole shelf in his study with tapes and discs with labels like: _Aubrey, Southwest Regional Figure Skating Championships-Juveniles, 1999._

"I always say that the only thing to fear is embarrassing yourself where somebody can videotape you and use it for blackmail, so I've had my intern destroy his footage from today, but he says that it's already on something called the Youtube, but don't worry, sweetheart, Dad's going to get rid of those too even if I have to hire that kid who tried to hack into the CIA databases last month. I'll see you in a couple of weeks, kiddo. Tomorrow's the day after today. Dad out." 

She went through the rest of the year on auto-pilot. Acapella hadn't been Aubrey's thing in high school-- she sang mostly in church or with the school choir, which rarely employed choreography beyond hand gestures and finger-waggling. She'd been okay in front of the audiences at frat boy parties, and at Sectionals and Regionals. The only reason she'd even gotten the solo for the Finals was because the girl who'd had it before her broke her ankle attempting a particularly challenging yoga pose and no way was Alice letting a girl on crutches thump around onstage with them. But despite only singing acapella covers for the last three years, Aubrey was shocked at how empty and dragging her days seemed to be without the rehearsals and the gigs. She missed the easy camaraderie she had with the Bellas. When she and Chloe had joined in freshman year, it had seemed too perfect-- a group of women who all sang in perfect pitch and had bikini-ready bodies, and who shared the similar interests of taking home the ICCA trophy and grinding down the Treblemakers' bones to dust. 

It _had_ been too perfect. Sometimes Aubrey thought that this was some kind of twisted reward for what happened to her at the Lincoln Center, that she found out that the only person willing to stand by her in a crisis was her best friend. But when she saw the Bellas avert their gazes and practically shun her in the halls, it was hard to remember that scrap of silver lining. 

/// 

Just when Aubrey had thought that things couldn't possibly get worse, they did. She got called into the Dean's Office with Chloe. Alice was already seated inside, massaging her temples with her fingertips. 

"Ah, Miss Posen, Miss Beale. Good of you to join us." The Dean gestured to the two empty chairs in front of her desk. After Chloe and Aubrey had settled in, the Dean looked at them over her steepled fingers, and took a deep breath. "I won't beat around the bush-- the administration has decided to divert some of the funding for the Barden Bellas."

"What?" Aubrey asked. Her heart felt like it was made of lead. "What do you mean, _divert_?" 

"They're buying the Treblemakers a bus," Alice said. "So that Barden University’s precious three-time national champions can go on tour this summer. Like American Idol rejects." 

"But," Aubrey said. "But, that's unfair!"

"The Treblemakers have booked venues from Atlanta to Salt Lake City. A percentage of the incoming freshmen have mentioned them in their 'Reasons why I chose to apply to Barden University' essay question. Their website has more traffic than the swimming team's, the track team's, and the weightlifting club's combined. Their bus is non-negotiable." The Dean looked geniunely apologetic as she shuffled the papers on her desk. "I'm sorry, girls, but you'll have to come up with your own funding next year." 

"And a hot tub." Alice said, like she hadn't even heard the Dean talk. "Bumper's probably going to get that hot tub he's been begging for."

The Dean coughed delicately. "I can't comment on that." 

Aubrey felt sick. From the look on Chloe's face, she knew exactly how Aubrey felt. 

Or maybe not. Aubrey tamped down on the wave of nausea struggling to overcome her. She couldn't throw up on the Dean's desk. It looked like it was a hundred years old and carved out of an oak tree. It'd take forever to clean and she had a flight out of Atlanta in two days. 

Aubrey took a deep breath. "Thank you for informing us," she said. "We'll do our best with what we're given." 

The Dean smiled at her. "You've always seemed like a resourceful young woman, Miss Posen." 

"My dad always says," Aubrey said, ignoring Alice's groan and Chloe's unmistakable snort. "When life gives you lemons, plant them." 

"A useful motto, I'm sure," said the Dean, after a long pause. 

"Yes," Aubrey said. "It is." 

///

Aubrey spent half the summer with her mother in Switzerland, and the other half lazing around the house in Washington. She saw her Dad for a total of three times that summer. For once, she wasn't particularly bothered. She was spending most of her time with her vocal coach anyway. He'd come highly recommended when it came to performance-related anxiety disorders. 

She talked to Chloe maybe once a week. Chloe was in South Bend that summer, visiting her grandmother's farm, and her cell reception was patchy at best. 

On one of their rare phone conversations, Aubrey mentioned that her vocal coach had advised her to look into medication as a way of controlling the nausea. 

"Ugh, don't," Chloe said, her voice tinny over the phone, like she was shouting from a long way away. "Coke'll make your pores look huge." 

"As opposed to heroin, which leaves visible marks," Aubrey said, sarcastic. "Anyway, he meant prescription medication." 

"You said no, right?" Chloe said. "You'll be a total zombie on downers. That's not perky, ICCA-winning material." 

"Of course I said no," Aubrey said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, how are you?" 

"We mucked out the barn," Chloe said. Her voice sounded hoarse and breathy, and Aubrey wondered if it was the reception. "I tried to sing while we worked, but it's all heavy lifting, and I got out of breath too easily." 

"I'm putting cardio on the requirements for next year," Aubrey said, making a little note for herself. 

"That's an idea," Chloe said. After a beat of silence, Chloe asked carefully, "So you're excited for next year?" 

"Yeah," Aubrey said. There would be a whole new crop of students next year, who would never have heard Aubrey's regurgitation episode. She'd show everyone. Next year's Bellas were going to be the hottest, fiercest, most aca-amazing group of ladies who ever shook their butts to a mash-up of classic '80s and '90s hits popularized by female artists.

///

She didn't have a chance to see Chloe until they had to start setting up for the activities fair. Chloe's hair was longer and brighter than she remembered. She hugged the same though, and Aubrey let a bit of glee bubble up as they set up the booth. Just a little though. Her dad always said that control was in the hands of the guy holding the grenade, and Aubrey was going to control the stupid vomiting impulse or die in the attempt. 

They might not have any funding, or members, and so far the freshmen she'd seen floating around the activities fair didn't look too promising, but Aubrey was hopeful. Really, _really_ hopeful. 

Chloe halted when she saw the look on Aubrey's face. "Are you going to throw up?" she asked, sotto voce. 

Aubrey shook her head. "I'm okay." 

Chloe rubbed her at a spot on throat, right above the collar of her dress. Aubrey knew that she did that only when she was nervous. She grabbed for Chloe's hand and held it tightly. 

"Hey," she said. "Someone told me once that we can get through this. Together." 

Chloe smiled, but it was weak and nervous. "Not your dad?" Her hand was trembling in Aubrey's.

"Nah," Aubrey said. "My dad doesn't know anything about acapella." 

She let go of Chloe's hand so she could straighten the Barden Bellas logo hanging over their heads. She cringed when the first notes of the Treblemakers' (awful, horrible) rendition of Whip It wafted towards them. 

"I'll stop at nothing to take those dingalings down," she swore. 

Chloe laughed. "They're the worst," she agreed. "Oh, you've got an--" she said, and wiped gently at Aubrey's cheek with the pad of her index finger. "Eyelash." Her smile was brighter now. "Make a wish?" 

_Eight superhot girls with bikini-ready bodies who can harmonize and have perfect pitch_ , Aubrey thought, closing her eyes. She exhaled like a little kid blowing out birthday candles. When she opened her eyes, Chloe was still smiling at her. 

"Ready to find the best singers in all of Barden U?" she asked. 

Aubrey nodded. This year was gonna be their year. Their aca-awesomest yet. She could feel it.


End file.
